


Bros Til the End

by skargasm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Gen, Humor, LJ Prompt, M/M, bro feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't do this without his best bud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mulder200](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mulder200/gifts), [devilscut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/gifts).



“We’re eloping.” Scott watched as the impact of his words sank into Stiles’ brain. It was actually quite entertaining watching the realisation travel over his best friend’s face. 

“What?” 

“Ssssh! Eloping—jumping the besom” thank you SATs “running away to get married. Eloping.” Squishing the jumper into the bag, Scott looked around to see if there was anything else he should take. Not that he had any particular idea what you took with you when you were eloping to Vegas. But that was what Stiles was here for. 

“I—I heard that, I just wasn’t sure I heard that. Look, Scott—“ 

“Don’t try to talk me out of it. No negativity—we agreed after the summer we had.” 

“What—why would I try to talk you out of it? Just because the statistical chances of a teenage marriage lasting are—“

“They can’t be worse than the statistical chances of being bitten by a feral werewolf and turning into one before you hit seventeen!”

“Point! Okay, what about the pretty much one hundred percent statistical probability of Allison’s dad coming after the pair of you with his biggest rifle and a shitload of wolfsbane bullets to shoot into your hairy ass? Have you thought about that? Scott?” Scott slumped onto the bed, shoving the gym bag onto the ground with a thud. 

“I know, I know. It’s just—Stiles, they refuse to let us see each other. And if I have to climb down Allison’s drainpipe one more time wearing nothing but my boxers, I’m gonna get a rash from that ivy! We just—we just want to be together.”

He watched as Stiles paced back and forth, only tripping a couple of times over the dirty laundry that hadn’t quite made it to the laundry basket in the corner of his bedroom. He could tell Stiles was thinking—he was _always_ thinking—muttering under his breath. He didn’t have the heart to remind him that with werewolf hearing, he might as well have speaking out loud. Something about hair-brained ideas, mourning the loss of his best bud in a hunter related incident after surviving the bizarre shenanigans of the summer. He snickered as Stiles muttered about how in all likelihood he was going to be skinned alive, starting with his unusual sideburns so that if he survived and turned human again his eyebrows would get lonely being the only hair on his face. 

“I get it—I do. Big, big love between the pair of you. But do you need to turn this into Romeo and Juliet, the werewolf version? Because this can’t end well.”

“Which is why I’m telling you. Because you’re the brains of our operation—we decided that in kindergarten and I see no need to change things now. Help me.”

“Help you elope?”

“Can you keep your voice down? Mum might be tired after her shift but she’s not deaf. And she’s really sensitive about plotting stuff lately.” Stiles threw himself onto the bed next to Scott, splayed out in a star shape as his fingers tapped a rhythm on his stomach.

“Oh yeah, right, got ya. Just—is Allison _pregnant_?!” 

“NO!” Scott did try to pull his punch but judging by the oomph sound that Stiles made it wasn’t quite enough. Still, served him right for thinking that.

“I was just asking—a furry lil Scott-cub baking in her oven might be a good reason to get married. Just saying.”

“You are truly gross. I don’t know why I want you there as my best man.” He watched as his friend’s eyes opened wide, jaw dropping before Stiles snapped into a seated position. 

“Really? Best man?”

“Well who else? You’re practically my brother—no way I could do this without you.” They shared a glance—one that spoke of years of companionship and friendship, silently reaffirming the bond that might have been stretched by all of the supernatural stuff that had gone on but that would never break. 

“Right, well okay than. I’ll go fuel up Roscoe and plot the fastest way to Vegas.” Scott grinned, pleased that Stiles was on-board. He watched as Stiles stumbled over to the window, one leg already out and dangling as he turned back towards Scott. 

“Hey Stiles.”

“Yeah bud?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime bud.” With a smile, Stiles disappeared for a moment, before sticking his head back inside. “You might wanna pack something resembling a suit. Just saying.” He disappeared again immediately, and Scott heard the sound of him scrambling down to the ground. 

Picking up his gym bag from the floor, he yanked out the seven pairs of socks that formed the main part of his packing and tried to figure out how to pack his suit and not get it hopelessly crumpled. He was getting married to the love of his life with his best friend by his side. Furry or not, his life was pretty good.

* * *


	2. I Object!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek makes the wrong assumption about who's getting married.
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame Devilscut and Mulder200 for this one!
> 
> * * *

“I am **NOT** an Elvis impersonator and if you don’t let me in there I am going to rip your throat out with my teeth!” Derek knew flashing his eyes wasn’t the thing to do but the frustration was just too damn much. The drive here had been hurried and uncomfortable—his tatty converse didn’t normally see the outside of his loft and had kept slipping on the pedals of the Camaro—and his sweatpants kept sliding down his hips so that only the length of his comfy jumper stopped the world and his dog from seeing that he was going commando. 

“Look, young man, if you’re not the Elvis impersonator then you must be—oh my God, if you’re one of _those_ people you are not going to stop them from celebrating their love! Move into the 21st century—it’s not about gender, it’s about how they feel!” She had obviously decided that Derek was a homophobe—did things get any more confusing than this? Well obviously—this was his life after all. 

“You couldn’t be more of an idiot if you tried! Let me past!” Giving up on any semblance of normality, Derek physically lifted the buxom, middle-aged woman out of his way and shoved the door to the hall open, plunging through in a flailing move that would have made Stiles proud. Well, might have made Stiles proud if Derek wasn’t here for the precise purpose of stopping Stiles from making the mistake of a lifetime and marrying Scott. 

He hadn’t been able to believe it when Isaac came over to the loft and told him that Scott and Stiles were eloping. He had semi-thought that Scott and Allison were on one of their breaks although it was difficult to tell with those two; had been all too aware that Stiles smelt so much like Scott because they shared the same bed and he didn’t think it was just in a buds falling asleep watching movies kind of way. He’d managed to stop himself from scenting any deeper than that—he hadn’t wanted confirmation that the love the two boys shared for each other had finally taken that deeper step because he couldn’t cope with the idea. It was bad enough that everyone—including himself sometimes—thought that Scott would make a better Alpha. He didn’t want to think about him having Stiles too. Because despite Derek not thinking he deserved the happiness of making a move on Stiles, of trying to convince him to give Derek a chance, he had never allowed himself to consider what he would do if Scott ever pulled his head out of his ass and realised just how special Stiles was. 

He stumbled to a halt halfway down the aisle, looking up at the two young men stood at the ‘alter’ who had turned from the celebrant to stare at him. It took him a few moments to realise that they weren’t who he had expected them to be—in fact, he was pretty sure he’d never seen them before in his life. 

“Who—?”

“Is he one of yours?” 

“Hell no, although I wouldn’t say no!”

“HEY!” While he stood frozen to the spot, the door behind him was thrown open again and Stiles fell into the room. 

“Derek, dude, what’s wrong? Scott said he scen—heard you arrive and I told him I’d come and see what was going on!” 

“STILES!” Ignoring the argument currently going on behind him, Derek fell towards Stiles, grabbing him by the arms and yanking him close. “Look, I know I’m a grumpy bastard and I don’t have any idea how to approach you properly, and that you probably don’t even realise how I feel but I had to tell you before you went ahead and did this—I couldn’t let you—“

“What the hell is going on?”

“Well at least it’s not my Dad!” Derek looked away from Stiles’ shocked face to see Lydia, Allison and Scott standing in the doorway. Lydia was wearing a pink dress that should have clashed with her red hair but didn’t; Scott was wearing what looked like the suit from the ill-fated dance a couple of years ago and Allison was wearing a simple white dress with a lacy jacket type thing, holding a small bouquet of roses in her hand. 

The hand that wasn’t being held by Scott. 

Lydia was giving him that smirk—the one that said she out of all of them had put together exactly what was going on and was waiting to see how he was going to get out of this. And that she had no intention of helping him at all. And Scott—Scott was grinning, his face full of the happiness that always characterised anything to do with Allison. 

Allison—not Stiles. 

Allison—who he had obviously eloped with. 

Not Stiles. 

He was going to kill Isaac.

“Er—Derek? You know I’m losing feeling in my upper arms right? I mean, not that it’s not nice to see you and we would _totally_ have invited you if it hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing but there’s absolutely nothing stopping us having a pack party when we get back to celebrate before Chris rips Scott’s head off! And, I’m not sure wha—mmph!” 

It looked like he had finally found a way to shut Stiles up—and yes, kissing him was just as good as Derek had always dreamed it would be.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Never really written Scott so was interesting when this little titbit arrived in my head. Nothing major - just a little slice of bro love.
> 
> * * *


End file.
